


Out Of Sight

by kerrykins



Series: "Unchanged" Universe [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Angst, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: Prologue to Unchanged, from Miranda's POV.





	Out Of Sight

_ “You may be out of my sight but never out of my mind.” -Unknown” _

 

Putting it simply, Miranda was miserable. 

 

She missed her husband. 

 

Her assistant. 

 

What little sanity she had. 

 

Too many things seemed to explode simultaneously, everything went so wrong in such a short span of time. 

 

The fact that she felt so alone, so vulnerable was appalling. 

 

She was Miranda Priestly for heaven’s sake, she shouldn’t feel this way, Miranda told herself firmly. But still she sat on a ledge facing her window, absorbed in self-pity and humiliation.

 

Emily made a small rustling noise as she made her way into the office, and Miranda silently cursed herself for not closing the door so she could have a moment to herself. “What?” She snapped, her voice laced with fury. 

 

Miranda refused to tear her eyes away from the panes of glass overlooking the city.

 

“Erm, Jocelyn just wants to know if we’re still doing the San Francisco shoot?” Emily’s voice shook a bit, and she could practically envision the redhead shivering in trepidation. 

 

Miranda couldn’t help but feel smug knowing that she had scared the daylights out of her assistant. That was one thing that always remained constant. 

 

The only thing.

 

If people weren’t afraid of her, what did she have? 

 

Nothing. 

 

This realisation further fractured the already dwindling walls of ice she had up. God damn it, at this rate she’d fall apart with that wretched assistant in the room.

 

“No. Shut the door on your way out.” Miranda ordered, with as much authority as she could muster. Once she heard the door slam shut, and Emily’s heels click away, she gently set her glasses down. And she cried.

 

It was just a tear or two, but Miranda could feel them trickling down her face, and she nearly gasped at the unfamiliar sensation. 

 

The snow-haired woman couldn’t recall the last time she’d cried. No wait, she could. Her mother threw her out of the house when she was only eighteen. She had wandered the streets of London, stumbled into a pub, and drank until she couldn’t think. 

 

Loss came in many forms, with the death of her father and her mother disowning her. But at least there was some recovery time in between these two events. Stephen and Andrea left her nearly simultaneously. 

 

Miranda was never one to back down from a challenge, let it be personal or work-related. But this, all of this, was far too much for her.

 

She gripped the edges of the windowsill, her knuckles shining bone white. I’m spiraling, she thought to herself furiously, but helplessly. La Priestly is having a breakdown in her office. Miranda laughed, but it was empty and bitter.

 

The Ice Queen, the Devil In Prada, the Dragon Lady.

 

The lives she’s ruined to obtain these clever monikers. Miranda wore them proudly, as if their were conquests of her triumphs.

 

But one of the lives she’s derailed was her own. She drove everyone away, and for what? All she had left were fashion spreads and dresses.

 

Stephen wasn’t why she was so upset, she decided. It was more that she was worried about what the vicious press would say about her precious bobbseys. Good riddance to that man, he wasn’t worth crying over, she thought to herself, curling her lip in disgust.

 

But Andrea. That foolish girl stumbled her way into Miranda’s heart, dodging the icicles and taming the dragon. And the older woman couldn’t help but feel like her heart had been ripped out of her, and that she was left with an empty chasm.

 

Though she’d likely never lay eyes on that nervous, brunette girl again, Miranda was certain that she’d never be able to get those kind, cocoa eyes out of her mind.  



End file.
